Harlequin
by MightyAlpaca
Summary: Cegorach, the Laughing God, the First Fool, bored with the current flow of events, decides to explore the many realities. Upon finding one in which powerful entities seek an impossible goal, he chooses to meddle with their broken cycle (M to be safe)(Random Update Schedule (RUS))
1. Prologue

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**Prologue**

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Grinning and laughing, he watched as the gluttonous bitch screeched and raged at him robbing her of a pair of souls he felt were rightfully hers. Then again, she was still much like a child, being the youngest of the Four, and most certainly younger than himself or the Renegade.

Cegorach sighed, his mirth leaving him as he released the souls into a vast garden, one he maintained in Isha's stead, one where the souls of his loyal servants were permitted entrance to upon death. He thought upon that moment, when Slaanesh was born, when she destroyed the debauched society that the Aeldari had created upon rejecting him, and the others.

Khaine was a fool; Slaanesh was riding a high brought on by the consumption of trillions of Aeldari souls (and those of whatever races were unfortunate enough to be nearby). Seeking to engage such a foe in direct combat was bound for failure. '_On the bright side…_' He thought, '_at least he's still alive, in a way_'

His thoughts turned to Isha, Slaanesh subjecting her to no end of horrors before her… salvation at the hands of Nurgle. Now, she was subjected to whatever vile concoction he forced upon her. Cegorach glanced in the direction of Nurgle's realm, and laughed when he saw a faint shape falling from the top of the cliff, a string of curses echoing across the Warp. The Wolfish Primarch was getting closer all the time.

Turning away, he glanced at the stage that was set onto a small table. Abaddon was gone, for now, and now the Imperium was slowly starting to get its wits together, Yvraine was making excellent progress, and there was nothing he could do with that theatre for now.

Instead, he chose to wander amongst the various theatres for various alternate realities, each one representing themselves as a door, some covered in heavy iron chains, showing that they had been lost the Chaos entirely. None of them interested him enough to meddle, as he so often loved to do, until he came across a door he barely recognised.

It was dilapidated, crumbling, and rotting, the once polished brass tarnished and scratched, the fine wood it used to be having rotted and crumbled, but not enough to see beyond.

Struggling to remember what lay beyond, he opened it, and then he remembered; hanging over an image of that universe, several beings made of sickly coloured shards hung. The universe where entities sought to prevent universal heat death, and in doing so, would leave only ruin. But perhaps he could change that.

Settling on a decision, he created the stage for the Humans, where two of such entities hung over their world, their only world, Terra, or Earth, and then began searching for a suitable marionette he wished to change. '_So many to choose from… all of them so… dull_' He thought to himself. They already had powers, of a kind, setting themselves up as either 'heroes' or 'villains'. It was a poor play, and he was disinclined to watch. Until his hand brushed against new marionette.

All of a sudden, he felt he had something he could work with. The marionette was perfect for his purposes. Carefully and lovingly removing the puppet from where it comfortably hung, he carried it over to the workbench in the room, where needles and thread, in a basket with buttons, sat. Carefully removing the strings, he set them aside, and got to work.

Carefully, he cut open the head of the fabric doll, and removed the pink ball that represented the brain. With a delicacy none could match, he began reshaping the brain, adding more folds, deepening existing ones, altering the two extra lobes of the brain to instead function as they would in an Eldar; the forward most lobe to support their psychic powers, whilst the rearmost lobe would act as subconscious protection against any Warp beings, not that there were many in this reality.

He then gently placed it back amongst the plush stuffing of the doll, and sewed it up, watching as the proportions of the doll altered slightly. They were still Human, but had slightly more Eldar-like features. He then gifted the doll knowledge of wraithbone, on how to call it forth and shape it. He then gave it underlying knowledge of himself, not enough to truly worship him, he wasn't like that, but enough to influence it so that it would, perhaps, give him a show worthy of his attention.

Grinning behind his mask, he threaded the marionette's strings, and then placed it within the confines of the stage, and watched as the show began.

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**So, what do you think? I always imagined Cegorach as having marionettes of any who attract his attention, in order to manipulate them much like a puppet master. Anyway, reviews are welcome, and I've got an exterminatus-scale extinguisher for flames**


	2. Act 01 : Opening Act 01

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**Act 01 : Opening Act 01**

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My eyes were closed as I listened to the beat of the music, moving carefully in time with the sound. As I was placing one of my feet down, I shifted it slightly to the left, avoiding whatever another student had 'dropped' in order to trip me up and embarrass me. Even through the bullying, I had forced myself to continue the dance classes that Winslow offered, even when some of the more active bullies signed up to get at me.

However, normally I would've fallen over by now, except something kept whispering to me, in the back of mind, to shift my feet. Actually, now that I thought about it, that same whisper gave me advice, about where to move when one of _them _tried anything. Such as earlier, one of the students would've smacked into my shoulder, but it twisted slightly at the right moment, and instead they stumbled forwards, glaring at me, whilst I smiled brightly at them. Which was… weird.

The teacher, Miss Palmer, clapped her hands and the music came to a stop, and I opened my eyes. I found all of the others breathing heavily and sweating, but I didn't feel hot. I realised that the music was one of the more energetic tracks that she owned and used. "Excellent work today students; Jack, I can see you've been practicing; Taylor, excellent moves, but room for improvement; Jessica dear, please look like you're trying" She then went on to say that she wouldn't be present on Thursday.

After dismissing us, I headed into the changing rooms, which were as dirty as ever, and pulled my bag out from where I'd hidden it. It was a small panel in the wall that could move, and I'd started hiding my bag behind there. I first made sure that there would be nobody to observe me doing so, because then I'd never find it, or I'd find it filled with… stuff. '_Their acting was subpar compared to mine, and jealousy guided their actions_' I halted for a moment. Where had _that _come from?

Shaking that thought, I quickly changed into my normal clothes, and couldn't help but think that they needed more colour, or perhaps a combination of vibrant white, and the darkest black. Sighing to myself, I wondered if I was slowly going insane, or if something else had happened. Leaving the school, I headed for the bus stop, as dance class was after hours.

Ever since the locker incident, I felt… different. It was difficult to pin down exactly _why _or _what_, but the whispers in the back of mind was just a small part of it. I felt stronger, faster, more agile. My face had changed almost unnoticeably, but I could see I no longer looked like an upright frog. In fact, all of my features had changed; my skin no longer had a single flaw on it, my hair had a healthy sheen, my eyes seemed just a tad brighter. To top it all off, I could hear music, quiet, unnoticeable without absolute silence. Yet it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. It was a song; of mourning what once was, the fear of what is, and the hope of what is yet to be.

I might be insane, yet I decided when I got home to see if I could sing it.

—

Dad wasn't home yet. I checked the time, and saw it was nearly half-five. Shrugging, I started getting everything ready for dinner, only to sign when I realised that we hadn't been shopping in a while; a few chicken wings, a bag of week old salad, and… not a whole lot else. Still, I'd work with it. Setting the chicken wings, which still smelled and looked alright, despite going out of date two days ago (I'd risk it), to cook over the next forty minutes (the oven was only slightly better than using a candle), I made the salad up, using whatever vegetables I could find scattered around, before heading to my room.

Sitting on my bed, I closed my eyes, and focused on the song I could hear, and started to hum along. The song became louder, and I could hear more depth to it. The mourning of lives lost in a self-made cataclysm, the fear of a creature that would devour their souls, the hope that a desperate plan would save them all.

I could smell something, and I opened my eyes, to reveal a rapidly dissipating orb of what I could only describe as un-light. I gasped, realising that I could hear many songs, each one bringing forth images. Closing my eyes, I focused on the many songs I could hear, and the images they made. A song of creation, a song of destruction, a song of life, a song of death, of order and of chaos. Each had depths that I could scarcely begin to understand, but I wanted to.

I opened my eyes, realising what I was. I was a cape. I had powers. I could be a hero. I'd always dreamt of one day getting powers, who doesn't, but what exactly where my powers? Music? That didn't seem right. I felt as if the music was a result of my powers, a means to bring it forth.

Leaning back, I checked the time. Five-to. Dad would be home shortly. Dinner would be ready after that. Getting up, I pushed aside the thoughts on what I could do with my powers, in favour of sorting dinner out, and greeting my dad.

I hoped his day went well.

—

During dinner, I could see dad was furious. And he told me why; the mayor had commissioned a new project, some kind of renovation to the storm drains, a series of decrepit tunnels that would dramatically reduce flooding in the event of an intense storm. However, as they were about to begin the project, dad having bought heavy equipment for the job, the mayor cancelled the contract, having found a cheaper source of labour for the task.

Dad never yelled, not in front of me at least, and he'd visibly restrained himself on multiple occasions from going into furious shouting. '_It is just like that man; to hog the stage and horde his wealth_' I sighed, sitting in my room. I decided to focus on the songs I could hear. Choosing the song of creation, I started humming, though something told me that singing would achieve a better result. Still, I could feel something begin to take shape.

A picture came to mind; a mask, that bore a neutral expression, and was half black, half white, with the white half hosting gold coloured engravings, and the black half bearing mirrored silver engravings. I could help myself, and started to sing quietly. I felt the detailed engravings begin to take form, and when I opened my eyes, a beautiful mask sat in my hands.

It would fit my face perfectly. The engravings on the cheeks were an upside down triangle, with a line coming from the top, with two simple curves, like a crescent shape, either side of the line, and another line going through the centre of both curves and the straight line. '_**Will you take up the mask, and walk the Path of the Harlequin?**_'

That thought. The other odd thoughts might just have been me, but that one… that almost seemed to come from the mask itself. I knew my cape name now; _Harlequin_.

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**So, thoughts? Indeed, Taylor will be getting quite a wide array of abilities, the lack of Warp predators giving her a lot of room for experimentation. The first seen power here was the ability to shape Warp stuff as un-light (I imagine it to be a ball of light, that sucks in light around it). **

**The second was the ability to summon and shape wraithbone. She will use this one a fair bit in the story. **

**Anyway, any suggestions appreciated, as this story has no true destination (making it up as I go along), but they may not be included. Just warning you. **

**Anyway, see all you clowns and jesters later. **


	3. Act 01 : Opening Act 02

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**Act 01 : Opening Act 02**

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Chewing the end of my pencil, I wandered around in circles. In my hands, was a notebook filled with what powers I'd discovered, and the song that went with it. I'd realised quite quickly that the songs I could hear were less about the words, in a language that itself was based around music, but more about the emotions and feelings. It was a strange, complex language, yet I quickly learned it, instinctively knowing it almost.

Focusing on my notepad, I realised I'd been drawing whilst I'd been thinking, seeing a weapon of some kind, with a cluster of notes around it. It was a baton-like weapon, that would press a sleep command into the minds of those I strike with it. Certainly less lethal than some of the designs I'd had; seriously, who designs a weapon that pushes a coil of monomolecular wire into a person's body, only for it to suddenly and rapidly uncoil?

I shuddered at the thought of _that _weapon. In fact, practically all the weapons in my mind were strictly lethal, with the possible exception of the haywire cannon. Though I was already coming up with my own version of the shuriken weapons I'd thought of. Similar to my baton weapons, they'd fire a spike, that had prongs at the base to stop it from going too deep, that would cause drowsiness, and, eventually, unconsciousness. These 'shard' weapons, as I'd taken to calling them, would be what I would use at range.

Moving from those thoughts, I knew I had to tell dad that I had powers. The only question was how? I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate me using my powers when he got home. Speaking of which, I cancelled the incantation I'd figured out how to do without verbally singing, or even actively mentally, and I gently floated back down, now longer casually defying gravity by walking around on the ceiling.

Closing my notebook, I went upstairs, and started work on creating an instrument that I could perform more complex summonings with. Maybe a flute? I grimaced, my mind going back to the image of mom's destroyed flute, covered in… stuff, only for it to vanish at the hands of a once friend. Yet it was the only instrument I could play.

I thought about that for a moment. Perhaps I could tell dad I had powers by showing him what I had shaped?

—

The flute I'd shaped was incredible. It was perfect, perhaps helped by my memory of mom's flute, and when played had a lovely sound, if deeper and more droning than a typical flute. A bit like bagpipes in a way I suppose. I couldn't remember many songs mom had played and taught me, but I knew enough to get started with.

Which led me to a problem; I could hum and sing the songs I could hear, but they leant me no help when it came to playing an instrument. Maybe the point was to learn your own song, and play that with the emotions. Either way, I tested what I could now do.

Flipping through a notebook that I kept specifically for the designs I had, I stopped at what my power seemed to keep pointing its metaphorical fingers at; a 'float belt'. Carefully, I began playing one of the longer songs mom taught me, focusing on the image in my mind, what I wanted the belt to do, and the feelings and emotions needed to shape it came naturally.

I must've lost track of time, because the next thing I know, dad is standing in the doorway, a sad expression on his face, and I knew it was him remembering mom. The float belt had been completed ages ago, half black and half white, matching my mask, with beautiful engravings on it. I'd also seemingly created my costumes undersuit, a skin tight, thick bodysuit that had a colour scheme matching my mask, but had harlequin diamonds of the opposite colour covering it, joined end to end, and perfectly placed so no diamond was cut off.

"Taylor" Dad started. "I think we need to talk"

—

It was awkward, not going to lie. We were sat around the table, two cups of slowly cooling tea sat before us. Neither of us had said a word in the few minutes we were sat here, but I could see a whirlwind of conflicting emotions lying just beyond his expressionless face. "When did you trigger?" Dad asked after a few more minutes.

I knew what he was talking about, but I had to wonder how; my dad never seemed the sort to browse PHO, or even read up about parahumans, beyond those that were directly threatening the Docks, or even him. "I think… I think it was last month" I replied.

His face turned into a frown. "The 'Incident' then" It wasn't a question. I nodded, and his frown deepened. I could see him thinking deeply. After a moment he looked at me. "Taylor, when were you planning on telling me?" He asked.

"I…" Did I ever truly plan on telling him? I mean, yes, I _told_ myself I would tell him, but did I mean it? "I don't know" I lowered my head, somewhat embarrassed.

He sighed. I could tell he was hiding something from me, but I wouldn't pry. "What do you intend to do with your powers then?" He knew the answer, and I knew the answer.

"I want to help people; to make this city better. I want to bring colour back to this fading world" I replied, and my dad nodded, as if expecting this answer.

"You don't want to go to the PRT, do you?" If my dad wasn't who he was, I would've been surprised that he picked up on my slight hesitation. He was right; I didn't want to go to the PRT. I'd been betrayed by far too many people in positions of responsibility, and I'd have to join the Wards. More teenage drama I couldn't be asked to deal with. And not the good kind of drama either.

I shook my head. "No, I don't"

He looked at me, and all of a sudden, I realised that he was scared of me potentially being hurt or even killed. But I couldn't knowingly have such seemingly diverse powers, and let this city suffer under the crushing grip of the Empire, the ABB, and the Merchants. Not whilst the PRT sat and protected the rich, inner city. "I don't… I just… You're all I have left" I got up, and walked around and hugged him.

He was right; I was the only family he had. Mom had died in a car accident, and she had severed all ties with her side of the family, whilst dad's parents had died when his father's ship had been sunk by the Empire trying to claim the docks, claiming his father's life and his mother's life.

I felt a fury seep into my mind. No more! The gangs will no longer control people through fear; families will no longer be torn apart by petty grievances spiralling out of control; no longer will one fear harm because they are different, or because they made a minor mistake.

This city would live once more, I would make sure of it!

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**Right, so, I'm not happy with how this chapter turned out. My ability to write is… not the best. There, I said it. So, if anyone wishes to help me, I'm open to ideas, or even chapters. So long as we're not skipping steps, like going from learning how to perform, to suddenly moving like a Solitaire does. **

**It's not me being lazy, but I struggle to get the little things right. I know what I want, but no idea how to get there. **


	4. Act 01 : Opening Act 03

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**Act 01 : Opening Act 03**

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Dad and I had talked for nearly an hour after he'd calmed down a bit, and he was adamant that he didn't want me to go out without at least basic knowledge on fighting, and had called one of his close friends in the Dockworkers Association, a bald man he introduced as Kurt. Had he not had skin similar in colour to onyx, I would've been concerned about him being an Empire goon.

The man was large, being quite broad and clearly being used to manual labour, but was actually just shorter than myself. That did not, however, mean he was unable to put me on my backside, parahuman abilities or not. And indeed, my dad told him I was a parahuman, and Kurt had instructed me to come at him however I thought best, and my power gave me little hints, but Kurt fought dirty.

So, here I was, laying on the basement floor, which we had cleared out over the past week, sweating like mad, whilst my torturer looked like he could still go another round. "Well Danny; she's got potential, I'll give her that much" He said, handing me a bottle of water. "However…" He helped me up. "You strike as though you're intending to just brush your hand against me, rather than properly hit me, or as though you're trying to hold a weapon" He took a sip of his own bottle. "So, what's going on up there?" He asked.

I sighed. He knew, so I might as well explain it to him. "Some of the weapons I see in my head are… brutal, to say the least. One of them, the one which I'm styling my own on, only needs me to brush my hand against somebody" I said.

"And then?" It was dad who asked.

"A coil of wire rapidly uncoils inside them" I said, receiving a grimace from dad, and a whistle from Kurt.

"Yeah. I can see why your power tries to make you fight like you do Twinkle Toes" Kurt said. 'Twinkle Toes'? Really? Did I really move like that?

"Alright Danny; I'll help your girl fight like a proper fighter, though I think Lacy'll be better for her" What did Aunt Lacy have to do with this?

"You think so?" Dad asked, receiving an amused snort from Kurt.

"She's the only person I know who can put me on my ass" Kurt replied, as he and dad went back upstairs, leaving me to contemplate on how to better fight. Especially if I wanted to not resort to using the Harlequin's Kiss. Or any of the other lethal weapons.

I shuddered at the thought of the Harlequin's Embrace. Seriously! What sadistic person thought it'd be a good idea for me to know these!? I thought I could hear somebody laughing, but dismissed it as my imagination. Thinking on it, I needed to finish my costume, the holosuit, and the holofield. I grinned thinking of those two items. I'm pretty sure I might be able to beat my foes by simple causing intense nausea, and my making them throw up… eew, gross.

—

Opening my eyes, I looked down at the item in front of me. It was clearly a rifle of some description, only I knew that it wouldn't function as such. Basing it on the idea for the 'Death Spinner', I created a weapon that would fire a net of wraithbone wire, that would wrap around and contain anyone caught properly by it. Though the wire was thin, it was far from weak, and I felt that only upper-tier brutes would be able to escape it. I named this weapon a 'Web Spinner', and I had two of them that would attach to my forearms.

Sadly, they only had a limited number of shots, though I was trying to figure out how to get them to regenerate ammo internally, though the wire was able to make more of itself as it spread further out to entangle someone. I had considered a pair of hand cannons that fired two inch sleep shards, but my aim… wasn't the best…

It sucked, okay. The web spinner had a degree of tracking before the projectile suddenly exploded into the web, but trying to hit somebody with an unguided projectile would require practice. Lots of practice. Placing the flute down, I sat on my bed, and closed my eyes, trying to focus on a different tune I could hear.

This time, I found something… different. I felt myself stretching, in a way that defied words. I could feel myself reaching for something. A… vessel. But not physically. But why? What was I trying to accomplish? Cutting the effect off, I felt my mind and body return to normal. It wasn't something I wanted to experience again, but it had a purpose. Now, I just had to figure out exactly _what _purpose.

Cutting myself off from that tune, I followed a different tune, I explored the possibilities of biomancy, the ability to shape biological matter. The things I could do to myself or to others was… astounding, and all it would take is a little time and a bit of imagination. However, I followed the idea of making myself stronger, faster, smarter even, amplify the bioelectricity of my nerves and use it as a weapon. The possibilities came to me quickly, but I forced myself to stop. There was such a thing as taking it too far, and I needed to be careful; I knew, from research, that the PRT had a bias against any Parahuman that could manipulate biology, Nilbog coming to mind, and ones like Panacea were monitored closely. Her healing was clearly biological manipulation, as healing itself was usually either limited to rapid regeneration, or a part of something else.

Sighing to myself, I decided to test the power in a small way. With a thought, my hair changed colour from dark brown to a bright crimson. I giggled. It was such a childish thing, yet I could change the colour of my hair on a whim. Forcing myself to focus, my hair turned back to my natural dark brown. I could do whatever I wanted to myself or to others. I could see how easily people can get carried away with their power.

Testing another thing, I tried to see if I could fix my eyesight, and when I opened my eyes, everything looked… out of focus. Removing my glasses, I gasped at how everything looked. My eyesight was perfect, more than perfect, actually; everything seemed brighter and darker, as if I could see more colours than before. It was… incredible, to say the least.

I could see in my mind new doors opening, new possibilities, a thousand new songs could now be heard.

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**Happy New Year! **

'**Tis all I have, see ya. **


End file.
